My oldest daughter will be 14 in two days. The children know the stories of how I found out I was pregnant with them, and they love to hear the stories about the day they were born. The story goes, that with my oldest , I was 19, I didn't find out until I was almost 10 weeks pregnant (because I was in denial), and that when I found out- I cried. Sobbed.
A few years ago, my daughter was in trouble for something- I don't even remember what. She was really worked up and she blurted out, "You didn't even want me. That's why you cried when you found out you were having me!" Kids really hold shit like that against you.
Is that really what she thought? I tried to explain it to her in a way that she could understand but I don't know if she could really comprehend it. I didn't cry because of her, I cried because of ME. I had this real fear that I would be a terrible mother. I cried because I knew this child deserved better than me. I had a lot of baggage. Not a small, rolling suitcase. We're talking a Louis Vouitton trunk, 3 large suitcases, a carry on AND a tote bag. I wanted this child to have a beautiful life and I was unsure that I could give that to her.
My husband was fantastic. He held on to me and over and over again was like, "It's going to be fine, you're going to do great, it's going to be okay." He saw things in me that I couldn't. He always had.
The day she was born was so surreal. They gave me horrible medicine that made me loopy, it was an out of body experience almost. After the drugs wore off and I felt like a normal human being, they handed her to me and it was like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. From that moment on, I ALWAYS thought of myself second. I was in love with her.
We lived in Texas, we had no friends and family. My daughter was born on Monday and my husband went back to work on Thursday, the day after we got home from the hospital. It was TRULY just the two of us. She was a velcro baby. She was not content unless she was in my arms. I didn't mind really. I accepted it. We pulled our glider into the living room and for the first 8 weeks of her life, all I did was eat, sleep and feed the baby.
I sat in the rocker and watched every bit of the Athens Summer Olympics that year. We nursed and rocked, nursed and rocked, nursed and rocked.
In life, we were doing okay for a 20 and 21 year old. We had an apartment in Dallas, we had a car, we were financially independent but we weren't going where we wanted to go. We were living paycheck to paycheck. My husband came home when she was a few weeks old and waved the white flag. "You know, I can probably get on with the Department of Defense. The pay would be better, I'd get paid time off, it would be easier for you to finish school....." He loved Dallas, he dreamed of living in the big city but we had a baby now.
So he made a few phone calls, and that November we were making the move back to Oklahoma. We got approved for a small mortgage and brought a small, brick rancher on the edge of town. It was a little house- but it was OURS. It had a big fenced in back yard and was perfect for our little family. I took off college for a year and was home with her and we lived off my husband's modest income. There wasn't luxuries but we had a bills paid and just a little bit left over to do some fun things or go out to eat every once in a while. I went back to school part time at night after she turned one. It took me 5 years to get my Bachelor's degree instead of 4.
It was just the 2 of us in that Oklahoma house for two years. She was my little buddy. We'd play in the backyard and blow bubbles, we went to story time at the library, we would go to the park. She loved to slide down the sliding board, and watch the prairie dogs popping in and out of holes along the perimeter. We played blocks and watched Dora and the Wiggles. We spent every day together and it was the happiest time of my life.
I was enough for her. More than enough. I was home to her. And I needed her as much as she needed me. This big-eyed, whispy- haired child who grew to look more and more like me everyday, she was my heart, my soul, my every inspiration. By the time her sister came along, I was calm. I knew that I would love this baby too and that I wasn't, in fact, a terrible mother like I'd once feared.
She brought to our life so many gifts. She inspired us to be better people, to reach higher, to work harder, to build a better life for ourselves. Becoming a mother healed me in so many ways. My children have taught me so much.
Now, my girl is turning 14. She's officially taller than me. She's so talented and so beautiful. Next month she'll start high school. She's a old soul. She wakes up early- even in the summer. She comes bounding down the stairs between 8:30-9:00 am, in athletic shorts and a tee shirt, her hair pulled up in a ponytail. "I'm going for a run!" She runs a mile in the morning, then comes home and fixes herself breakfast. Then she takes a shower, straightens her room, does laundry, then lunch, then she plays her flute for 2 hours. In the afternoon she watches Youtube, or campaigns for me to buy her something (Mom, so Hollister is having a sale), we have dinner as a family and then she spends the evening on her phone. Although, if my husband and I sneak out on the back porch to sit by the fire and have a drink, she always finds us and hangs out.
I've been teaching her how to drive a LITTLE bit. In an empty parking lot by the house. She'll get her permit next year. She talks excitedly about the future. About Governor's School, and college. She's coming into her own and she's mostly happy, I think. I could not ask for more for her. In spite of all my fears, I know that we have given her a beautiful life.
She's becoming more independent but she is still my velcro baby. She always wants me to be close by, she'll hug me in front of her friends, she texts me all the time when she's not with me, she sends me random memes. We are close to each other.
These 14 years have passed by in a flash- she grew up and I grew up too. And still, we have a ways to go. It wasn't my plan to start a family so early in life, but it was Gods plan and I trust that. He knew what He was doing. He gave me a gift and I am so grateful for that.
Happy 14th Birthday to my first baby!
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